Trusting Remus
by Catmint
Summary: AU. Remus Lupin has returned to Hogwarts to teach DADA. One evening he discovers Severus Snape in a very bad way. Rated for selfharm and hints of abuse. NOT SLASH just friendship. Please R&R.


Trusting Remus

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Disclaimer: Not mine. If you think they are, don't sue. See a shrink. Although I can claim Priscilla and Hilda to be mine.

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A/N: This is now an AU fic. I wrote it before Saturday June 21st, when OotP came out, but I want to post it anyway. Mind you, I never thought Remus would come back as DADA teacher. There are VERY minor spoilers for HP5 (Snape-related), although there are no spoilers for the central plot of HP5 – just Snape's school life. And Blaise Zabini is a girl here (I write both ways).

This fic is dedicated to my friends Carol, Caroline and Krysten. You three, you'll see why. And thankyou.

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Remus Lupin, now in his second term as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher (the headmaster had explained that after the scandal of Crouch Jr a few months ago, a decent werewolf was better than no teacher at all), glanced up from his marking at the knock on his door. "Come in."

A sixth-year Hufflepuff poked her head into the room. "Er – Professor Snape said that if you want your Wolfsbane, you'll have to go to his office."

"How do you know this, Hilda?"

"I – I went to hand in a Potions essay," explained Hilda, a somewhat anxious expression darkening her pretty face. "He – he looks really awful, Professor."

"Thankyou, Hilda. I shall go shortly. Oh, and well done in yesterday's test."

Hilda smiled self-consciously. "Thanks."

"I mean it. Go." Remus waved her off and put down his second-year tests. He needed to go immediately, if he didn't want to incur the wrath of the Potions master. The tests could wait till tomorrow; it was Saturday, after all. He couldn't help worrying over Hilda's words as he swiftly made his way down to the dungeons. Severus Snape rarely looked _good_, so he had to be looking extremely bad for students to notice and express concern over. 

Entering the dungeons (strictly Slytherin territory and, as an ex-Gryffindor, generally off-limits to Remus), he received a few nasty glares and pointedly ignored a screaming match between fifth-year girls Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, before finally reaching the Potions teacher's office. "Severus?" he asked, knocking lightly on the door.

No response. The door was ajar, though – a sign that Severus was definitely in there – and he pushed it open, expecting to be yelled at.

He stopped abruptly as he took in the scene that met his eyes. The Wolfsbane Potion was ready and waiting, smoking in a goblet on a shelf, but Snape was what alarmed him. He was sitting at his desk (which was cleared apart from a large pile of unmarked essays on one edge), head buried in his hands. His sleeves were pulled back to his elbows and his arms and hands were covered in blood. A malicious-looking knife, wet with blood, blade glittering cruelly, lay on the desk in front of him. Snape's breath was coming in ragged, uneven gasps, as though he were trying hard not to cry.

"Severus?" asked Remus uncertainly. When he again got no response, he crossed the room and carefully put a hand on the other man's shoulder.

Snape snapped his head upwards. "Lupin." He sounded exhausted. "The potion's over there."

Remus hurriedly drank it and returned to Snape's side. The seated man's face was deathly white and there were heavy black marks under his eyes. He looked totally drained.

"When did you last sleep, Severus?"

Snape snorted. "Sleep? What's that?"

Remus grabbed a chair and sat down beside him. "What the hell happened?" he asked softly. He didn't get a response. "The knife? What's all that about?"

Snape looked at the desk surface. "What do you think?"

"I take it you deliberately cut yourself." Remus wasn't stupid; he'd dealt with a self-harming Ravenclaw two years ago and knew when cuts were self-inflicted.

"You say that like it's a new thing." Snape laughed bitterly. "_Yes_, I deliberately cut myself. If you really want to know, I started doing it when I was twelve."

"Can I see?"

"Why?"

"I want to help you. Clean you up at the very least," replied Remus.

"What do you want in return?"

Remus looked taken aback, and then his face softened. "Not everyone's like that, Severus." This earned him a sceptical look. "Fine, then. In return, I want to see you happier. I definitely don't want you to die at your own hand, whether deliberate _or_ accidental." He sighed. "Please."

Reluctantly, Snape turned to face him, arms exposed. Remus caught his breath. There were numerous deep, bleeding gashes on his colleague's arms. Wide, ugly ones. "Just let me get what I need." Silently he filled a basin with warm water from the sink in the corner, and picked up a clean cloth that lay on the draining-board. He set the basin down on the desk and steeled himself for the task ahead. "This may hurt."

"Good. The more you make it hurt, the better."

"Why do you want it to hurt?"

"I deserve it. I deserve it for all the torturing I've done, the murders I've committed – "

"You were a Death Eater." Remus' eyes scanned Snape's face intently, briefly, as he ran the cloth gently over the other man's left forearm by the elbow, where he bore the Dark Mark. This patch of skin had several deep slashes through it, and several old scars through it were revealed as Remus cleaned the blood away.

"Yes. I was. So I deserve this. I took innocent lives and I deserve to suffer for it."

"Not like this."

"Have you ever hated yourself, Lupin?"

Remus was silent as he continued his task, considering the question in his mind. "I used to," he admitted finally. "But you can't change the past, so you should accept it and move on. I learned to." He paused. "You?"

Snape nodded. "I go to bed each night _praying_ that I'll die in my sleep and then I wake up the next morning and sometimes cry because I didn't die. I can't stand living. I just want to die but I can't quite reach the final step of actually carrying out the final act and so I cut myself to stay alive, hanging on to some _ridiculous_ hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will actually be better. Which, of course, it isn't."

"Don't you ever look after your injuries?"

Snape shook his head. "I – I need the scars. I deserve them. For reminders of what I've done. I can't bear being untainted on the outside when I've done so much evil. I don't care about the scarring." He sounded on the verge of tears, his voice cracking slightly.

Remus pulled a small box out of his robes. "First-aid kits are always useful." He gently dabbed some antiseptic onto the cuts and partially sealed them with a basic healing spell. "I'm no mediwizard, and these wounds are deep." He elongated the gauze pad and wrapped it around Snape's left forearm, securing it with a bandage. "I'll examine these in a week," he said before turning his attention to the equally damaged right arm. Snape flinched several times but remained silent as Remus carried out his task. The werewolf then picked up the knife and cleaned it, pocketing it. "I'm taking the knife to Dumbledore."

"I do have others," Snape reminded him.

Remus, sitting down, sighed wearily. "I know. But I need to tell him what happened. You need help, Severus."

"So I didn't when I was younger?" Snape's voice was filled with bitterness.

"I don't follow you."

"I'm a Slytherin. That renders me a lesser life-form than the rest of the school. They knew I was cutting, they knew about Potter and Black, and I'm _sure_ they knew my father –" He broke off, as though afraid he had said too much.

Remus felt a knot form in his stomach. "What – what about your father?" he asked, aware of a growing sense of horror. "Severus?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. What did he do to you?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I think it would help you to talk to someone," Remus replied carefully.

Snape slowly eased his left sleeve up over the bandage to expose his upper arm. In white scar tissue, the words '_Daddy's whore_' were painfully clear. Remus sucked in his breath sharply; he could only think of one possible implication in those words. "He sexually abused you?"

Silently, Snape nodded. "He – he still does, in my mind," he whispered, struggling to keep back the tears that were threatening. "I – I – I can't sleep sometimes because that's what I'll dream of…" He slowly, hesitantly, began to reveal the details of the abuse to an increasingly horrified Remus. By the end, both were crying and Remus reached out, embracing him and letting him cry for as long as he needed to. He knew it wasn't his fault that he'd been bitten; accidents happened. You got used to those, and moved on. You get used to being a werewolf (well, he had, at any rate). You _didn't_ get used to being sexually abused by your own father. He could barely comprehend how someone could commit such an act on their own child.

Eventually, Snape pulled away and accepted the handkerchief Remus offered him. "Thanks," he whispered.

"No problem. I'm always here, if you want to talk, or if you feel like cutting again."

"I generally feel like cutting at two in the morning."

Remus shrugged. "So? I'd rather you came and woke me up at two am and talked, if it stopped you from cutting, or even if you can't stop yourself from cutting, if you'd rather not be cleaned up by Poppy…"

"She's too nosy," growled Snape.

"Do you want to come to Dumbledore now?"

"Do I have to?"

"I _could_ go on my own, if I have to."

Snape nodded. "I'm exhausted. I don't think I could face the trek all the way up there."

"Get some sleep, then. An early night'll do you the world of good," Remus advised, standing. Severus nodded wearily and Remus left for Dumbledore's office. Pansy was shoved up against the wall by dark-haired Blaise. It didn't look good, so Remus decided to intervene, knowing that Blaise didn't get wound up easily, so something big must have happened. "What's going on?" he inquired.

"She nicked my Transfiguration essay and copied it – _word for word_, even the two spelling mistakes I made – and McGonagall thinks _I_ copied _her_!" Blaise complained. "Even though _she _can't spell 'separate' and _I_ can!"

Remus nodded, taking this in. Blaise was reasonably decent, and he knew she could spell the word in question and also that Pansy couldn't. "I'll deal with Minerva later – though I suggest you go to see her now." He hurried off to see the headmaster.

"Remus? What can I do for you?" inquired Dumbledore as he entered.

Remus pulled the knife out of his robes and placed it on the desk. "It's Severus' knife."

"And?"

"He's been using it to cut himself, Albus. He's been hurting himself for years."

"Oh. Oh dear." Dumbledore's expression saddened. "Do you have any idea why?"

Remus took a deep breath, and was startled at how bitter he sounded. "His father started abusing him when he was three. He started sexually abusing him when he was six. James and Sirius used to bully him horribly when we were at school and I let them. Three suicide attempts and nobody wanted to either find out why, or to help him. He constantly thinks about suicide. He can't sleep properly because of the nightmares. Nobody on the so-called 'good' side was interested, so is it any wonder he turned to Voldemort?" He was almost shouting by the end of his tirade.

"I'm sorry, Remus."

"He needs help, Albus. He needs to see a counsellor or a shrink, or _someone_, before he ends up committing suicide! And don't think he isn't capable of it!"

"I'll see what I can do."

"No, Albus; you _will_ get someone. I won't accept anything less. I can't do much to help him because I'm not trained in that area. You _will_ get someone."

Dumbledore looked startled. "You've changed from the Remus I used to know."

"I never hated Severus the way James and Sirius did," Remus pointed out. "And I know why he is the way he is. He let me help him just now, and – and he trusts me, oddly enough. So get that help."

"Of course."

"Thankyou. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a feud between Miss Parkinson and Miss Zabini I have to attend to." 

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Three days later, most of the students left for the Christmas holidays. Remus was oblivious to this event (it had been full moon the previous night) but the next day he made his way down to see Snape, steam pouring from his ears courtesy of Poppy's Pepperup Potion. "Severus?" he inquired, poking his head into the office.

Severus looked up from the Potions book he was reading. "Remus," he acknowledged coolly.

"How did it go with the shrink?" asked Remus carefully, sitting down on a spare chair beside Severus.

Severus grimaced. "It was awful. I couldn't talk much. I mean, she's a stranger. I can't trust strangers. At one point I couldn't stop crying."

"It's not easy – you've already found that out – but you have to at least _try_. It'll help in the long run. Trust me. And I'm still willing to listen, if you need to talk. I won't let you down, Severus."

Severus nodded. "I know. Thanks, Remus. I – I really appreciate this. Not many people would do what you've done, not for me." He hesitated. "And – and I'm sorry for making you leave eighteen months ago."

"Forgotten," Remus assured him. "I'm sorry for not stopping James and Sirius before it all got out of hand. I hope you can forgive me. Can – can we be friends?"

Severus nodded. "Friends."

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Christmas Day dawned bright and clear, Remus observed as he got up. Complete with a good foot and a half of snow. Grinning, he decided that he'd have to arrange a snowball fight for later that day.

He arrived for breakfast in the Great Hall. The four youngest Weasleys were there (seventh-years Fred and George, fifth-year Ron and fourth-year Ginny), fifth-years Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Mandy Brocklehurst and Ernie Macmillan, sixth-year Hilda from Hufflepuff, and three third-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. They formed two distinct groups – the older ones, and the third-years.

"Morning, Professor!" Harry greeted him.

"Morning, Harry. Up for a snowball fight after breakfast?"

"_Definitely_!" enthused one of the Weasley twins.

"Good. Has anyone seen Severus?"

"Been and gone," Hermione informed him, glancing up from her book.

"Right. I won't stay long, then." Remus quickly ate his breakfast and then headed down to the dungeons. He found Severus reading in his office. "Morning. Merry Christmas."

"And you."

"Do you want to join a snowball fight in a bit?"

"Maybe."

"How are you today?"

"I hate Christmas and I'm pretty depressed, but I don't feel the need to cut or anything."

Remus smiled. "That's good. I got you a Christmas present." He handed Severus the large box he had been carrying, collected earlier from Hagrid. "Hagrid helped."

"_Hagrid_? Now I'm worried." Nonetheless, Severus opened the box. Something let out a small mewing noise. "A kitten?"

Remus nodded. "Cats are reportedly therapeutic. And gorgeous, and good company. I saw her and couldn't resist."

Severus smiled, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thankyou," he whispered, picking the tortoiseshell-and-white creature up. She promptly clambered up onto his shoulder and began washing and primping herself. Both men laughed and Severus reached up to stroke her. "I'm going to call you Priscilla," he decided, "because you're such a little priss." In reply, Priscilla nudged his cheek with her head.

"I think she likes it," Remus observed.

"Can you take her for a moment? I have something for you as well."

Remus obligingly took the kitten while Severus searched through his now-cluttered desk. "Aha!" he cried finally, holing up a box-shaped object and exchanging it for Priscilla.

Intrigued, Remus unwrapped it to reveal a wolf statuette on a rock-shaped base, with a backdrop of the night sky, complete with moon.

"The wolf changes position, and the moon on the backdrop corresponds with the phase of the real moon," explained Severus.

"Thankyou," said Remus sincerely. "I love it."

"Let's go for that snowball fight."

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Two hours later, everyone traipsed inside, comletely and utterly soaking wet. Everyone had paired up (the twins, Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny, and Remus and Severus being the most notable pairs). Severus and Remus were the undisputed winners, with Priscilla proving to be a surprise secret weapon. She had refused to leave Severus' shoulder, and several students avoided throwing snowballs at Severus for fear of hitting the kitten by accident (and probably also because they were somewhat afraid of him).

"Where'd you learn to make such good snowballs, Professor?" George asked in awe.

"My wife," Severus replied briefly.

"You're married?"

"_Was_. She died of leukaemia when we were twenty-one. We'd only been married for two years. She was a Ravenclaw in my year."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Severus shrugged. "It happens." He hurried inside, away from probing questions, catching up with Remus. "So we won."

Remus grinned. "Even beat the Weasley twins, which takes some doing!"

Severus reached up to stroke Priscilla. "You know, I think things _are_ going to get better after all."

"Good. Now come with me to Poppy and we'll get some hot chocolate." They ambled down the corridor, Severus happier than he could ever remember being. Perhaps being alive wasn't so bad, after all.

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The End

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A/N: Priscilla is based on a cat I used to have, Tiggy, who liked to climb up onto people's shoulders. I dedicate this fic to her.

A HUUUUUUUGE thankyou to Bonnie for beta-ing!!!!!


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